Hogwarts in Autumn
by Tigerlily8
Summary: H/D pre-slash ficlet; inspired by seasonal fic challenge.


Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own any of these lovely characters...They belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

Author's notes: This H/D ficlet, set in seventh year, was created in response to the seasonal fic challenge the Armchair_Slash community posed. Oh, and it's my first HP piece of fan fiction EVER, so don't expect too much!!

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Hogwarts in Autumn

Harry heard the fallen leaves crackle beneath his feet and smiled. This was his favorite time of year. The bright globe disappeared for weeks on end, rays conveniently teasing, glimmering just when hope was all but lost. The skies otherwise adopted grey, a shade lighter, duller than silver as its color of choice…a color Ron inevitably squinted at (as if disbelievingly) each morning before pulling the covers back over his rumpled face, grumbling something along the lines of "wake me when it's spring" or on one of his less lucid of mornings, "Sweep the bloody gloom and doom off the sky, Harry…Use your bloody quidditch broom if you must!" 

And while that had given Harry and, much to Ron's chagrin, _Hermione_ quite the hearty laugh when he'd later taken it upon himself to recount the story to her in full; he was inclined to disagree.

He preferred to think autumn awakened the sky from summer's slumber…storms brewed, clouds swirled, and excitement abounded. Not to mention the bright, electric colors nature painted in the sky's essentially colorless stead. The sky provided texture, shape…mood, if you will, while the earth correspondingly heightened the effect, coloring ever so richly as if enchanted, bewitched by the sky's juice. 

Anything was possible when the wind howled and the thunder clapped…Anything…

****

Inside the Great Hall, Harry found himself seated beside an indignant Hermione, opposite a mildly contrite Ron. And not for the first time in his young life, or in all probability the last, he reflected, as he munched on his breakfast half-heartedly. It would seem Ron had once again 'forgotten' to make homework a priority, prompting their intellectually privileged friend to haul off and read him the riot act. Where was his sense of duty, his sense of responsibility? Copying another's homework (namely hers) would only come back to haunt him, after all!

Somewhere in the midst of her rampage Harry had tuned out and he sensed Ron had, too, judging by the glazed sheen that accordingly paralyzed his features. Though suddenly the red-haired boy's eyes lit up, bright with fire as his gaze swept past Hermione to a spot just beyond. 

Curious, Harry followed his stare. The slight, delicate lines of a certain fair Slytherin came into view. With disinterest, he returned to his breakfast, inwardly ticking down the seconds until his friend's imminent explosion. Five…four…three…

"That smug git is up to something; I'm sure of it!" he announced through clenched teeth, unwittingly interrupting Hermione's diatribe on the pitfalls of settling for mediocrity. 

Merlin, he was losing his touch; Harry bit back a chuckle…A whole two seconds off the mark; that had to be a record!

The Gryffindor girl's brows furrowed in question. "What ever are you talking about Ron?"

"It's not a 'what,' it's a 'whom,' Hermione, and I'll give you one guess," Harry shared a knowing glance with her as recognition then exasperation sparked.

"Malfoy hasn't bothered us at all this year, Ron Weasley. I don't see why you feel the need to keep it going if he's willing to let it drop," she spoke in her most reproving of tones, the one she'd mastered early on, much to the disgust of her fellow students…and detriment as it turned out, seeing as how she was now Hogwarts' official Head Girl.

"That's just it, Herm. He spent the last six years undermining us every chance he got and now, he just stops for no reason? It makes no sense. Unless, of course, he's trying to lull us into a false sense of security before striking…"

Her brows now rose, arching with incredulity. "You're paranoid, Ron," she then stated flatly with a wry shake to her head.

"And you're deluded if you think he'd give up so easily." Ron looked to Harry for support, but he merely shrugged in response.

Twisting that noncommittal act into one that conveniently coincided with his strongly felt belief, he grinned. "See, Harry agrees with me."

At that, Harry's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "Your social skills are greatly lacking, Ron, if you actually mistook my shrug for a nod. For your information, I happen to think Hermione's right in this case. Who cares why he's backed off…the point is that we're finally free of him. So just let it be. Instigating a fight with Malfoy won't solve anything…More than likely it'd have the adverse effect and we'd wind up back in our old pattern of hate, insults, and carefully chosen hexes."

"At least we'd know where we stood," Ron muttered darkly, forcefully tearing his gaze away from the oblivious boy across the Hall to, in turn, glower at his friends.

Harry sighed in resignation as he took in the telltale glint his friend's eyes possessed just then, the gleam he'd come to recognize all too well. Things would come to a head that day. It was only a matter of when… 

****

Harry had kept a close eye on Ron throughout the day, as best as he could, anyway. Potions had been nerve-racking, to say the least, but somehow they'd made it through without incident. 

So now here they were mid-day, taking a walk about the grounds, getting some much needed fresh air. Just two mates, laughing, talking…until suddenly they weren't. 

Apparently Malfoy had had the same idea as he was strolling along a distance ahead of them, minus his goons for once. Though he didn't look the worse for it. He seemed perfectly at ease in his solitude as if taking it in stride, entirely satisfied with his company or lack thereof.

Little did he know, that serenity was about to be shattered.

"Aw, look Harry, little Malfoy's all alone. Crabbe and Goyle finally wised up, eh? I never would have thought they had it in them!" A loud guffaw escaped Ron as he slapped Harry on the back a little too exuberantly, translating to roughly, for his taste.

Draco froze mid-step before languidly spinning on his heel to face the approaching duo. Sharp as ever, he noted with satisfaction how Potter was lagging behind the Weasel, visibly reticent to take part in anything involving him. That would soon change…

Never taking his eyes from Harry's, Draco's tone betrayed nothing, other than perhaps boredom. "Grow up, Weasley. I have. This," he gestured between them, "is over; done with. Deal with it." 

Harry studied the pale figure before him speculatively. "Weasley" he'd said, not "Weasel" or any of the other dozens of quaint nicknames he had for the boy he'd once disdained to such a degree, public humiliation was rationed on a daily basis. Harry's curiosity was now officially piqued. It was time to put the validity of his behavior to the test, he resolutely decided. After all he was The Boy Who Lived…he took chances, risks; he was courageous, right? He believed in justice and truth. He was a truth seeker, that's what he was, and the situation needed to be put to rest. Closure needed to be had or Ron would never be at peace; and by extension, neither would he as he'd inevitably be on the receiving end of his friend's equally 'quaint' conspiracy theories for the remainder of the school year. 

"Oh, is that so…_Draco_. Then, by all means, let's put the past behind us and start over," he duly extended his hand, causing both to instantaneously flash back on a similarly based instance from another time, another place. Ironically enough, one that seemed a lifetime ago to Harry, yet only yesterday to the Slytherin.

Draco's stormy eyes flitted from his outstretched hand to his emerald orbs, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. For a moment so fleeting, so brief, thinly veiled rage slid across ice. "Let's not be hasty…_Potter_," his silky drawl lingered on his name derisively. "I do not desire a 'new beginning' with the golden trio. I simply wish to move forward in a fashion that holds true to my principles."

Ron's mirthless laugh sounded as the wind picked up, capturing hold of a few flaming tendrils for good measure. Though Harry, Draco noticed, on the other hand, appeared pensive, intrigued. 

"Ah, principles. Care to elaborate?" he finally inquired, folding his arms in a stance that could almost be considered superior, definitely affected, following the sting of rejection Malfoy had delivered. He may as well have flashed his ugly scar to get the point across. 

There might be hope for him, after all…

With triumph, Draco drew this moment out; he wanted to remember it for a long time to come. Advancing forward to stand within a mere hair's breadth of Hogwarts boy wonder, he felt a tight smirk spread his lips. Cool, collected, he was the master of self-possession. "You are beneath me; you always have been and I refuse to spend another moment's breath on such inconsequential pettiness." 

Harry blinked and Draco was gone, sweeping past them in the other direction. Ron would have lunged after him had it not been for Harry's restraining hold on his arm. It'd become a reflex with Harry over the span of their friendship. One Ron, reasonably enough, never took all that kindly towards.

Though Harry wasn't focused on Ron this time. His gaze was instead trained on the back of his retreating enemy - that term didn't seem appropriate anymore - his _former_ enemy, perhaps? The swishing robes billowed out after his lithe frame, intensifying that magisterial air Draco Malfoy took such great pleasure in projecting.

Harry felt a wave of confusion overwhelm his senses as he watched the silvery bob of his head disappear inside the castle. Then, as if from a great distance, he heard himself make some excuse to Ron about needing to visit Dumbledore for one odd reason or another before setting off for some privacy. 

****

Easing down into a dry patch of grass, Harry absentmindedly reached for a handful of the autumnal leaves. The turning of the leaves was, of course, beautiful, but when one put a moment's thought to it, it was also a fairly poignant process. Each individual leaf seemed to come to life, brightening in color, reaching for exquisite perfection, only to drop to the depths below, gradually fading, shriveling with time…

The blustery air surrounded him, almost to the degree of suffocating him, but he paid it no never mind. Perhaps it was an acceptance of that sense of finality found within nature that'd first drawn Harry's appreciation. 

He thought back on the past few weeks. The realization that he hadn't even been aware of Draco's absence, his withdrawal from all things Gryffindor until his friends had brought it to his attention baffled him. This afternoon's confrontation was only an acknowledgment of a loss of something that had long been in play, something which no one in their right mind would take the time to reflect upon for any span beyond the immediate chorus of relief and cheer. Then again, he'd always been somewhat of a freak…

Whether he trusted Draco's explanation was beside the point…He'd said it was over, and for some strange reason, Harry had believed it to be so. His world seemed to tumble upside down as red and orange and yellow leaves swirled around him. Random parallels were drawn then dismissed as beauty and hate, color and life, beginnings and endings all sifted through his thoughts. 

Though turning his face up to the shifting grey skies, he was reminded of one boy and one boy only and the fact that nature's greatest forces transcend predictability or even a true finality. Storms build in power, maintain that intensity for one brief moment before lessening…But they inevitably come again. They are compelled to return; it's a need, a driving desire that can't be denied.

The leaves that tickled his nose as they spiraled downwards decorated the world with their astounding beauty…and in this moment, twirling in the breeze, they were alive. The wind granted them the smallest glimpse of life, but the power was in the wind, in the impossibly grey expanses where anything was possible…

****

Wand pointed, a spell was murmured from a distance and a figure watched as the oblivious raven-haired boy marveled at the sudden showering of colors that rained down upon him. With a soft, gentle smile, the figure backed away, retreating into the shadows once more.

****

The End

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!! 


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